Now, with that heading one would think I had headed back to Montana. Nope. I found the stereotypical street debauchery of the white trash, red neck world in the striving metropolis of Hayfield, Minnesota last night. Of course, I felt pretty much right at home. The guys, on the other hand, were quite entertained. I think by night's end, they were digressing to some level of white trashiness themselves :)
Hayfield has it's own high school but I wouldn't call it big at all. It sits in the middle of a few cornfields. They block off a couple of blocks of street between the Legion Bar and another bar across the street. Buy a button and you can come and go throughout the night. Buy an arm's length of beer tickets for $20. Feast on pulled pork sandwiches, deep fat fried cheese curds, nachos, and really cheap nasty Budweiser. Add too the mix a line of port-o-potties, every cop in the country, and a country band (whose sound guy was from Missoula, MT and their bass player from Odessa, TX, home of the Friday Night Lights football story). You have all the makings for a truly hot summer night (nevermind, the 100 degree heat index due to the high temps and high humidity).
We have video of some guy in scary boxers and a tank dancing to his own tune in his head, even when no one else was dancing. The cowboy with the cutting-the-circulation-off-in-my-balls-tight jeans and the walmart white wife-beater tank with an 18 inch waist "cuddling" with a 250 lb woman with rolls all over and not enough clothes to cover them. There was the biker chic clad in head to toe leather that with one glance was dancing with her equally leather clad biker boy with his huge knife sheathed on his back hip, and at another glance the same leather clad biker chic was grinding with another gal rigged out in plain jean shorts and a tank. The band played all the top country songs, and yes, I knew the words to every one to the amazement of my male companions. They threw in a few of their originals too. They wouldn't be anything to write home about, if you didn't know the lyrics you couldn't understand all of them, but they did the job.
By the time the night was over, Dave and I had danced to a few. Got Tim to dance a jig or two as well. All of us consumed a fine amount of beer, with the exception of our driver. We laughed a ton at those around us. Met a really really tall man whose shirt read "screw me, I'm german", tried to recruit him for ultimate frisbee but he said volleyball was his game. Drove home with the windows and sunroof wide open to air out the smell of BO emanating from us so freely. got home and crashed around 2 am!
No offense to anyone with this post. It is just the way it is. I grew up with it, I still revel in returning to it, and last night had a blast watching the guys revel at the crowd with me. And to let loose and know that not one single person there cares what they look like, let alone what you look like makes it so much easier to have a great time. Yee-haw!
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